


The Medical (Internship) Crisis

by MeganWrites



Series: Alternate Universe [4]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hospital, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-20 05:46:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2417144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeganWrites/pseuds/MeganWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Ian's pretty sure it's universally recognized that your first day of work isn't going well when you end up hiding in a storage closet."</p><p>Ian is a nervous medical intern, Mickey is a grumpy nurse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Medical (Internship) Crisis

**Author's Note:**

> I have been having serious writers block and this is the only thing I've been able to finish writing in forever. I'm not sure I'm totally satisfied with this but... here it is! Also, I may have been inspired by Scrubs...... and also have very little knowledge as to the whole Med School/Hospital stuff beyond what I can find on the internet. So if something is super wrong.... my bad.
> 
> Thinking of making this into a short series, so lemme know if you'd be interested in that...

Breathe in _(One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.)_ and breathe out.

Ian clenches his fist tightly, digging his nails into the palms of his hands and leaning against cool metal racks behind him. This stupid breathing exercise is supposed to help him feel less anxious, his heartbeat is steadying but his mind is running rampant and no amount of deep breaths seems to be quelling that.

Breathe in _(One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.)_ and breathe out.

Fuck. Ian's pretty sure it's universally recognized that your first day of work isn't going well when you end up hiding in a storage closet. It's probably going even worse if you're hiding because you're already too stressed, and it's probably worse than that when the work you're avoiding is helping to diagnose a patient.

Breathe in _(One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.)_ and breathe out.

He's seriously fucking this up. Why did he think going into medicine was a good idea? His brain is in overdrive but he remembers something about still doing good and saving lives even though he can't fight in the army. It seemed reasonable at the time but right now Ian kind of wants to go back in time and slap himself until he runs far, far away from medical school, internships, and any future residency.

Breathe in _(One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.)_ and breathe out.

It's only been six hours and he's already trying to bail ship. Eight years of highly competitive schooling and about three hundred thousand dollars of tuition, all of it accumulating to make these six hours of an internship happen, and he's ready to run. Fuck, he's such a fucking idiot. He never should have listened to Lip, he should have just become a trainer at a gym or worked random jobs like Fiona, at least then he won't have totally screwed himself over financially.

Breathe in _(One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.)_ and breathe out.

He's actually royally fucked himself. How is he ever going to be able to pay off that debt without a high paying job? It's not even a possibility, not even a whisper of a possibility, he can't even fucking daydream that there would be a possibility because now that he's leaving after six fucking hours he won't be making any decent money, ever.

Breathe in _(One. Two. Three. Fo - )_ Fuck it, he breathes out harshly, none of this is helping him anyways.

Ian turns around and rests his forehead against the metal racks, closing his eyes and muttering under his breath, "fuck, fuck, fuck."

He's so fucked.

The door bangs open and Ian spins around quickly, trying to think of an excuse he can use as to why he's just been standing around in the supply closet for the past ten minutes. Ian isn't sure if he feels lucky or not when he doesn't recognize the guy in front of him, though he does feel the slightest relief when he recognizes the red nurse's scrubs. He can't imagine how bad it would have been if his attending had walked in, or worse the Chief of Medicine.

The nurse crosses his arms and snorts loudly as the door closes behind him, "Fuck, you just lost me twenty bucks." He shakes his head and steps forward, pushing Ian aside to dig around on one of the metal shelves. 

Ian blinks, "excuse me?"

The nurse turns to look at Ian, moving his hand as he speaks to make each word more poignant. "You. Lost. Me. Money." The nurse scowls and runs his eyes over Ian's face, "you fuckin' deaf, Raggedy Anne?"

"Did you just call me Raggedy Anne?" Ian questions and laughs lowly. He's vaguely aware that the nurse seems pretty peeved and that maybe it's not the best idea to be so close to him, or to continue speaking to him, but for some reason being around the grouchy nurse is actually helping his nerves.

"Yeah, 'cause you got the same fuckin' mop," The nurse gestures to his head and frowns deeply.

Ian laughs again and crosses his arms, leaning back against the metal racks. "Really? That's the best you've got?"

The nurse clicks his tongue, "could've called you Firecrotch or Coppercock, s'cuse me for trying not to be crude at work."

Ian's pretty sure the nurse has said 'fuck' at least once per sentence, he gets the sense that either the nurse has forgotten it's a swear or cares very little about his level of crudeness at work.

"Still pretty uncreative," Ian comments as he smiles smugly.

The nurse sneers and turns away from Ian, "whatever, asshole, at least I'm not hiding in a closet from my job."

"I'm just a little nervous," Ian mutters while looking down and shuffling his feet.

The nurse snorts loudly again, "no fuckin' kidding, that's why I lost; didn't think you were the type to panic."

Ian swallows and nods, the tightness in his chest is returning, clearly his brief moment of calm was ending. "Sorry," Ian closes his eyes, tries to remember the breathing exercises again. "I didn't mean to - fuck."

Ian feels a soft pressure on his arms, hears a gentle voice whispering, "hey, hey, you okay? C’mon, you alright?" Ian slowly opens his eyes again, sees outstretched arms and recognizes that the pressure he feels is the nurse holding onto his arms.

"Sorry," Ian repeats himself taking a few short harsh breaths, "I just can't stop it."

The nurse nods and keeps a tight grip on Ian's arms, it's nice and Ian's glad he doesn't let go - its grounding and warm. The nurse smiles tightly, "let's talk about something else for a bit, alright? What's your name?"

"Uhm, Ian, Ian Gallagher."

"Ian Gallagher," the nurse says it as if he's testing out how the name tastes on his tongue. He hums and smirks, "Mickey Milkovich."

"Mickey," Ian mumbles and smiles as he finally turns his gaze up to meet Mickey's eyes; they're such a beautiful blue, and Ian wonders how he didn't notice that earlier. "It suits you."

Mickey snickers and swipes his tongue over his lower lip, "glad you approve, Gallagher." Ian laughs quietly along with Mickey and feels his heartbeat returning to normal.

"I'm not sure I'm cut out for this job," Ian finds himself admitting quietly. Mickey lets go of Ian's arms and Ian immediately misses the feel of Mickey's calloused hands against his skin.  
  
"You know, the bet was just on who we didn't think would freak out on the first day."

"Yeah, that makes me feel a lot better," Ian answers with a frown.

Mickey rolls his eyes dramatically and smacks Ian's arm lightly, "Yeah, alright, shut the fuck up; I didn't mean it like that. I meant that we were just betting on the first day because every intern freaks the fuck out at some point." Mickey snorts and leans back against the metal shelves, "if it's not today, it's just gonna be in three days or two weeks or one month."

Ian's lips quirk into a half smile, "so, all the interns go through this?"

"Dead serious, you're the fourth one I've found in here today."

"You're pretty good at this," Ian muses, "you talk all the interns down from a panic attack?"

Mickey rolls his eyes and glares playfully, "I'm not a fuckin' therapist."

"But you talked to me," Ian quips as his grin grows wider. Mickey bites down on his lower lip and looks at the door, keeping his eyes away from Ian as a light blush travels up his neck.  
  
"Yeah," Mickey answers after a short silence and pushes away from the metal shelves. "’Aight, Gallagher, let's get out of here, time to get back on the fuckin' horse." When Mickey looks back at Ian he's got a little smile that makes Ian's heart flutter. Mickey nudges Ian's arm and says, "I'll even help you out with your patients for the rest of the day."

Ian stands up straight and fumbles over his words quickly, "Oh, you don't - I mean you probably have better things - I don't want to keep you from -"

Mickey slaps a hand over Ian's mouth and raises his eyebrows, "seriously Gallagher, just nod and follow my lead, okay?"

Ian nods quickly and Mickey pulls his hand away, moving to the door and walking back into the hospital halls. Ian follows behind him obediently without a second of hesitation, and that night he dreams of blue eyes and calloused hands.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr :)](http://meganwwrites.tumblr.com)


End file.
